


Not The First Time

by aliitvodeson



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Creepy Brock Rumlow, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, HTP is it's own trigger warning, HYDRA Trash Party, Hooker AU, Hurt Pietro Maximoff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Public Blow Jobs, Rape/Non-con Elements, do I tag it HTP when it's really just Brock being an asshole?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 02:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16945209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliitvodeson/pseuds/aliitvodeson
Summary: Pietro sells himself on the streets to help feed him and Wanda, and keep her going to hair school, which is her own really hope of being better than another war orphan.Unfortunately, there's no protection on the streets from assholes.At least he gets to keep the bill.





	Not The First Time

Pietro watches the man coming up the street, stopping every so often to take a lot at the girls who hang out under the streetlights, flicking his cigarette occasionally. The night is cold, but Pietro only has a mess tshirt on, his leather pants slung low over his hips. This part of the city was one of the few to still have power, throughout the entire course of the war, but now that the rest of the city was being rebuilt, it was falling from luxury to disuse.

The prospective client doesn’t stop for any of the girls, doesn’t stop until he reaches Pietro’s corner. He stamps out his cigarette as Pietro picks himself off the wall, straightening up without really expect anything.

“How much?”

The question makes Pietro blink, but he knows his answer by route, and there’s no hesitation in his voice when he answers. “Twenty for a blow. Fifty for a fuck. Extra if you want to go back to your place.”

Sometimes people don’t want the bullshit. Pietro isn’t that good at the sweet talk, so it’s kinda nice to have a guy who isn’t asking for it.

“Let’s see what you got.”

The guy has the kind of bulk that makes Pietro shiver, scars on his face that look almost like burns, and a dark twist to his eyes. When he pulls out the wallet, there’s a flash of solid bills, dark green American. Pietro’s heart does a little pitter patter, thinking about the amount of food that it would buy to have that. Thick fingers hold out one crumpled bill, and Pietro has to lean in to pluck it from his fingers, getting a whiff of smoke and subtle aftershave.

He checks the denomination, and then tucks it into his pocket.

He wakes ahead of the man, into the darkness of the alley, not hiding the switch of his hips as he balances on the heels. Wanda thought they were too much, but he’d gotten three more clients tonight than he normally would, and that meant more money for food and rent. Another day that Wanda could go back to the hair salon and learn, and not think about joining him on the streets. Pietro didn’t mind himself on here, but her...

He shakes his head a little, and brings his mind back to the task at hand. Safely away from the streets, the shadows of the alley provide as much privacy as most clients want.

He drops a hand on the man’s chest, sliding his fingers down over his jacket. The man shifts, taking a spot against the bricks wall, one eyebrow raised at Pietro. He doesn’t say anything, as Pietro pulls apart his belt and reaches his hand into the man’s underwear. “Big,” he purrs, putting emphasis on his accent, and watching the man’s pupils dilating. “Just the way I like them.”

The cement is cracked and rough underneath his knees, and shifting is useless at getting any more comfortable. He licks his lips, surveying the dick quickly for any sign of problems. There isn’t much light in the alley, but he also knows that anything serious isn’t going to be visible anyways.

He flicks his tongue along the underside, and hears the guy growl, low in his throat. A hand twists into his hair, tugging him first. Pietro feels a flash of annoyance.  _ Ask first buddy _ , but of course he’s filling his mouth with cock, and there’s not really an issue with touching like that. Not enough to lose the money.

The guy starts bucking his hips up into his mouth before Pietro has a chance to really settle, and he’s got hope of a quick finish, an easy job. He lets his throat go slack and swirls his tongue around in gentle motions. When the guy starts to groan, deep vocals, Pietro hollows out his cheeks and bobs his head, the fingers in his hair tightening and pushing him down deeper.

“Christ- slut-”

Pietro’s stomach turns, but he closes his eyes, pushes down all the way to the base, feels the cock tickle the back of his throat. There’s a second set of fingers in his hair, he can feel how they’d got a tight grip, and the man is spreading his legs wider, pulling Pietro between his feet. When Pietro goes to pull up for air, the hands tighten, shoving him back down.

Tears well up in his eyes.

He breathes through his nose, focuses on the nonsense noises the man makes deep in his throat. A jerk of the hands, and he feels several hairs tear out at the roots. He gasps, lips losing around the cock, as he’s pulled up, and then suddenly shoved back down.

“Filthy little slut.”

He gives up trying to direct his own movements. The client pulls him up and down in rough motions, and Pietro lets his throat and tongue go limp. His hands fist against his own legs, wishing for something to punch. His lungs feel too empty, the tears are falling out of his eyes freely, running dark along his cheeks with his eyeliner.

“Look at me, you slut.”

He raises his eyes, catching the bright red tattoo of an octopus right above the man’s hip bone, before his gaze goes the rest of the way the man’s face. His face is twisted in an angry snarl, and he spits down at Pietro even as he shoves Pietro base deep on his cock. Pietro flinches, swallowing despite himself, and the man’s cock twitches.

Once, twice, and he holds Pietro down until he’s swallowed up everything, the taste sour in his throat. One hand stays gripped hard in Pietro’s hair, while the other set of fingers holds the softened cock in front of his lips. Pietro breathes for air, and thinks of Wanda waiting at home, and does not fight when the man growls, “clean up your mess, slut.”

He stays down on his knees while the man pulls his pants back up. He pats Pietro’s cheek, the touch mocking in it’s gentleness. The anger is fading from his eyes, but his lips are still curled in a smirk, dark hair still slicked back, too short to ever be pulled. “Not so bad, slut. I’ll be back sometime, try out your other end.”

Pietro doesn’t move until the man is clear out of the alley, and he can’t hear any more footsteps.

 

A week later, he’s holding Wanda’s hand when Baron Strucker waves a man into the room. “Rumlow here will show you around the base.”

Dark eyes smile, as he looks Pietro up and down.

“Hello again.”


End file.
